


Time

by SuhailaUniverse



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuhailaUniverse/pseuds/SuhailaUniverse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Culloden's inexorable pull draws Claire and Jamie ever nearer, a sense of unconscious urgency sets in, inevitably causing them to desperately seek what strength and solace they can find in each other, with what time is left to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time

Time was running out. She could feel it. The days seemed to be speeding past them. Every conversation or quiet moment they shared seemingly cut short by another one of Charles’ demands. She desperately needed more time with Jamie, more time to commit to memory every minute detail of him she could. The way he moved, he laughed, he loved. Claire knew she’d already memorized all of him to the bone; everything from the amount of time he took between breaths as he slept, to the way he would clear his irritated throat just before he got a cough, to the feel of his skin against hers. Yet the irrational fear of forgetting even the slightest detail made her stomach flip and her hands shake with an inexplicable anxiousness.

There just never seemed to be enough hours in the day. Between her tending to the sick and injured in her makeshift medical tent, and his attending to Charles’ every whim, by the time they found each other at the end of the day, there was barely time for anything more than crawling into each other’s embrace and falling asleep. And by the time she’d wake, he’d already be gone, the feel of his kiss still lingering on her temple.

She ached for him as she knew he did for her. And that ache she was sure would soon become unbearable. She’d catch him once in a while watching her as she worked, his face an unreadable mask to anyone but her. She could swear she heard his thoughts as if he’d whispered them in her ear, and knew he could read her response in her face and body.

They’d be on the road again soon on another one of Charles’ errands, finally leaving the latest little village they’d so unceremoniously descended upon three weeks before. There was nothing she needed more than spending her nights with him under the stars, where they could block everything out and have their world narrowed down to them alone.

***

They’d been travelling for the better part of two days. Despite the weather being cold with an unrelenting icy drizzle and surrounded by Jamie’s Lallybroch men, Claire felt free for the first time in what felt like an age. The highlands stretched unhindered around them, filling her with a sense of relief. As they rode side by side, they’d grown painfully aware of each other. “We’ll make camp in a few hours,” Jamie said, trying to keep his voice casual as he guided his horse over a muddy rough patch in the road. Following suit, Claire asked “Will we be out in the open heather again?” _with your men so close all around us?_ she finished her question in thought. He laughed lightly, “No, Sassenach. There’s a clump of trees on a wee hill, a little ways ahead. It’ll provide better cover than we had last night. We can _all_ better blend into woods, ken.” He replied, giving her a lopsided smile. He knew she’d been craving privacy as much as he.

Three hours later, they’d set up camp in what Claire soon found - what Jamie considered “ _a clump of trees on a wee hill” -_ was actually a rather large dense woodland covering the landscape as far as the eye could see. The men spread deep among the trees, all relatively within earshot, but far enough away from each other as to disappear completely in the foliage. Murtagh – ever observant – had sensed the building energy between Claire and Jamie, and had taken charge of Fergus under the guise of teaching him how to set up snares and start a camp fire, keeping him busy and _away,_ at least for a day, from the eager couple.

Claire and Jamie made quick work of setting up their own tiny camp, Jamie putting up their tent as Claire started the fire – the drizzle having mercifully stopped - amiably conversing as they did so. Darkness slowly descended, a half-moon brightening the cloudy night. It seemed almost strange having him all to herself, without others constantly hovering.

Though she still wore her cloak, gown and shift, she had - with a sigh of relief - long since taken off her stays and petticoats. Warm she would be, stifled she would not. They sat, backs braced on a fallen tree trunk, their saddle bags cushioning against the rough bark, huddled together under his plaid sharing each other’s warmth, arms locked around each other, watching the fire’s flames dance; the smell of rain and cinders perfuming the night around them. He made her laugh with stories of Murtagh’s ever eloquent, profanity-infused Gaelic impatience with Charles; of how Fergus had managed to run off with Jamie’s horse for a full day without anyone noticing till he got back caked in mud from head to toe, apparently having been repeatedly thrown off the horse.

“How the wee bastard didn’t break his neck, I’ll never know!” he said, his laughter deep and unrestrained.

As she took the pins confining her hair out, Claire told him of the fascinatingly gruesome cases she’d come across. Once her hair exploded into a loose curly cloud, she nestled once again into Jamie’s shoulder and continued her retelling of a young boy, a few years older the Fergus, who – in an attempt to impress some young girls waulking wool nearby with his wood cutting prowess – had managed to cleave off half his calf muscle and two toes with a wayward axe swing.

“Suffice it to say, the only thing the poor lad managed in accomplishing was horrify his audience. I swear it took longer to calm the girls down than it did patching him up.” She shook her head remembering how her tiny medical tent was suddenly filled with the group of girls now near hysterics and the young boy gallantly putting on a brave face. That is, until she’d cleaned his wounds out with alcohol.

They spent hours talking about everything and nothing, passing a flask of whisky between them. More than anything, that was what she’d longed for - to just be with him, be in his arms, both unencumbered by fear of being overheard. They freely exchanged war stories of their time spent in France before she’d made her journey through the stones.

“D’ye ken, Sassenach,” he said, sounded fascinated. “I think we may have both been in France at the same time, only-“

“-Only two hundred years apart,” she finished, looking up at him. He was smiling, a distant look in his eyes. “Funny, that.” He said as if to himself.  

As they spoke, Jamie’s hand had idly begun to wander under the plaid, finding and slowly unlacing her bodice and shift, his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of her shift, his fingers tracing soft patterns across the sensitive peak of her breast, which immediately responded to his touch. She turned towards him and lightly kissed his neck. “Perhaps, we should move to the tent?” she said, no longer able to keep her voice even. She felt him nod and began disentangling herself from his embrace and plaid. She’d gotten to their tent opening when she realized he hadn’t followed her.

“What is it?” she asked, tentatively. He took his time before answering, his eyes roaming her body.

He began to undress, eyes locked with hers. “What are you doing? Jamie, its freezing!” she exclaimed, shuddering at the thought of being naked in the chilly night.

“I mean to make it last.” He replied simply.

She stood, staring at him. It had been getting colder the later it got and a quick glance into the tent showed the wet earth had already seeped through the canvas floor. She cocked her eyebrow at him and with little hesitation, slipped her cloak off her shoulders and spread it out within the tent adding a layer of warmth and dry protection from the damp.

They watched each other slowly taking turns shedding off the layers they wore; Not a word was said as they did so - the time for words had ended. They stood finally dressed in nothing but the firelight that cast seductive shadows all along their lengths, yet its warmth never reached them, their bodies at once erupting with gooseflesh. He stood tall and strong, his need for connection strikingly visible, making her breath catch in her throat. She held out her hand to him, which he took gently as he stepped into her embrace. They caressed each other, trying to warm themselves and smooth the gooseflesh off their skin. The more they touched though, the more their breaths came in short bursts, their trembling bodies now riddled with gooseflesh of pure wanting. And even though the air was still bitingly frigid, his heat began seeping through her.

Slowly, they eventually lay sheltered within the midnight darkness of their tent. With her arms around his neck pulling him ever closer, he ran his hands along her sides, stealing kisses as he did so, their writhing bodies furiously seeking to be one. But he said he’d meant to make it last. They took each other again and again to the edges of desire, each time holding back. When at last the moment of joining came, when they could wait no longer, he came into her with a fiery intensity that at once set fire to her heart.

And last it did.

***

As the morning birds began their day in the early gloom, the sun barely filtering through the trees, Claire and Jamie lay intertwined; finally sated. His eyes drooped, but he fought back the sleep, she realized. “Sleep,” she whispered, bumping her nose against his, their faces merely inches apart. He shook his head, stubborn not to let one moment be wasted in slumber. “Sleep,” she said again, burying her hand in his thick curls, rhythmically running her nails lightly all along his scalp, lulling him into utter relaxation. He fought it no more, and let the sleep finally take him.

Claire watched him, a smile tugging at the corners of his sweet mouth. Peaceful as he was, she couldn’t resist kissing him and rested her forehead to his, her fingers still gently working their way through his hair. She knew it’d be less than an hour before the entire camp began to rouse, and the illusion of timelessness they’d managed to create would shatter. There had been a frightening desperation in their lovemaking that had never been there before. Neither dared speak of it, neither willing to consciously admit it. Neither able to bring themselves to truly believe it. Yet both felt it viscerally.

_Time, was running out._


End file.
